


Asunder

by Curator



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Action/Adventure, Chronic Pain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode references, Episode: s02e15 Threshold, Episode: s03e23 Distant Origin, Episode: s05e24 The Next Phase, Episode: s07e09 Force of Nature, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, In Medias Res, Post-Episode: s07e25 Endgame (Star Trek: Voyager), Repercussions, Technobabble, the nonsensical science is canon, tying up loose canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Curator/pseuds/Curator
Summary: Someone is looking for two people who don’t want to be found, don’t want to be happy, and don’t want to do Starfleet any favors.Annoyance flared from deep in Chakotay’s chest.“People are dead. Don’t you give a damn, Paris?”The helm seat swiveled and a tight finger pointed at Chakotay. “Kathryn, you need to get this guy out of here. Now.”The door opened and the corridor receded and Chakotay was in the transporter room again. He knew he should leave gracefully, but he couldn’t help asking as he stood on the pad and she set coordinates for beam-out, “Does he give you orders often?”
Relationships: Chakotay & Kathryn Janeway, Harry Kim & Tom Paris, Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris
Comments: 77
Kudos: 55
Collections: Into Fate's Mirror ~ Action-Adventure August





	1. You Didn’t Comm Her

**Author's Note:**

> A quadrant’s worth of thanks to Caladenia, whose thoughtful, diligent beta work gave me a much-needed fresh perspective on the truths of this story.

**Prologue**

“Captain.” The operations officer looked up from readings that shouldn’t be possible. “A ship is approaching, and I — I think it’s at warp.”

“Warp?” the captain echoed. “How?”

“Unsure, but the vessel is coming into visual range.”

The captain stood. “Onscreen.”

The small craft was green, iridescent, lit by nearby stars in an almost scale-like pattern. It halted in front of the Starfleet ship, dwarfed in size but seeming to bristle with energy and technology.

“Hail them.”

The tactical officer tapped to send a standard greeting. 

“No response, Captain.”

The first officer called for yellow alert. “Should we raise shields?”

The captain’s head shook. “Let’s let them take a look at us, establish trust.”

“Computer breach,” the operations officer shouted. 

“I can see that.” The captain strode, hands clamped on ears, to the nearest display. Words, pictures, holo-images — everything flashed past accompanied by screeching sounds as the computer narrated information in every language at once. 

“Can you make it stop?” the first officer yelled.

But then it did stop. Two files silently displayed on every computer: service records for two infamous Starfleet officers. 

“Bring them to us,” an unfamiliar voice said. 

“Audio-only communication is established with the alien ship,” the tactical officer announced. 

The captain nodded briskly and spoke into the air. “Greetings. It is a pleasure to initiate first contact with your species. We’re quite curious to know how you were able to achieve warp. The United Federation of Planets welcomes —”

“Bring them to us.”

“I’m sorry.” The captain‘s head tilted, eyes drifting to the files on display. “But the locations of Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris have been unknown for quite some time. If you would like to discuss —”

And before the captain could say another word, before the tactical officer even detected the power buildup, before the first officer could call for red alert — an energy weapon streaked out from the small, green-scaled vessel and destroyed the Starfleet ship. 

**Three months later … Chapter 1: You Didn’t Comm Her**

“If I knew, I would tell you, Admiral.” Captain Harry Kim leaned forward in his ready room chair. “I resent the accusation that I wouldn’t.”

On Harry’s computer screen, the silver eyes of Admiral Geordi La Forge narrowed.

“Nobody is accusing you of anything, Captain. We’re just looking for answers.”

“With all due respect, sir, you’re looking for two people who don’t want to be found.”

The admiral held up a padd. “I’m looking for whatever is motivating the destruction of five Starfleet ships. That’s more than a thousand people dead and who knows how many more in danger. If that means turning over every rock, following every goose, wild or not — then that’s what I’ll do. From what we can tell, this green-scaled ship has Starfleet outgunned and can cut through our technology like a knife through butter. And warp ... I don’t have to tell you what it would mean to learn how to warp through Federation space. If Admiral Janeway or Lieutenant Commander Paris can give us any advantage in being able to talk with these aliens, then I’ll take what I can get.”

Harry’s chortle was rough. “If you find either one of them, I recommend you not use those Starfleet ranks. For a start. Are we through?”

“Do I have your assurance that you’ll share any information you have with Starfleet?” The admiral’s enhanced eyes focused on Harry.

“Yes. Sir.”

The computer screen darkened.

Harry exhaled. 

From his desk drawer, he pulled out a padd — not Starfleet issue. He tapped and the device activated. A few more taps and a familiar face filled the screen. 

“What does Starfleet know, Harry?” Chakotay asked.

“Not much. What did she say when you commed her?”

Chakotay looked away.

“You didn’t comm her.” Harry hunched toward the padd. “Damnit, Chakotay, you promised.”

“Look, just keep letting Starfleet think you don’t know anything, all right? I’ll comm her.”

“I _don’t_ know anything — and you need to comm her. Today.”

Chakotay’s jaw set. “Today.”

“Good. She can tell Tom and maybe they can bond over their guilt. They’re good at that.”

Harry cut the comm, grabbed his cane, and strode, stiff-legged, to his bridge.

***

It took months to fly from the Dorvan system to more populated regions of space. But trade kept the former colonies alive and filling his shuttle’s hold made Chakotay feel like he was a part of his tribe without having to live among them.

To live among anyone … the admiring stares … hopeful head swivels if he spoke … breathless thanks for what he had done when he hadn’t done a damn thing — no. This was better.

He hadn’t strayed too far off course. Just a week or so. Just enough to handle this meeting the way he wanted to, not through a screen.

Readings showed he was approaching the homing beacon that only a few people had the encryption code to decipher.

Then it was visible through the front viewport, the sleek, black ship that glided through space like a phantom, leaving nothing behind. No location transponder, no registered flight plan, no plasma exhaust — nothing. Barely larger than the old _Delta Flyer_ , the _Nautilus_ was designed for long-range travel, which Chakotay figured was still somewhat accurate. But the sensors had been ripped apart and rebuilt so many times that they would be the envy of Starfleet’s top Astrometrics scientists. 

That is, if any of them knew this ship existed.

With his good hand, the one that could still flex and grasp, Chakotay reached to open a channel. 

“ _Leakey_ to _Nautilus_. Do you read me?”

The audio-only response was almost immediate. “What do you want, Chakotay?”

Damn. He had hoped it would be Kathryn. She might have offered transport instead of suggesting he dock with the _Nautilus_ , a tricky maneuver he would have had trouble with even back when both his hands were strong.

“I want to talk, Tom. There’s been some trouble and —”

“If you need credits, we can transfer some to your account. Is that all?”

Chakotay’s jaw set. He hadn’t asked for money in years, and those times had been to help his tribe purchase medical supplies.

“I said I want to talk. To you and to Kathryn. I’ve come a long way and I’m alone. It’s important.”

There were muffled sounds followed by a comm system alert that _Nautilus_ audio had been muted. Then, everything around Chakotay shimmered into nothingness.


	2. Any Luck?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Klingon rapid aging through childhood is so-so canon. Yes, I’m using it.

The lights of the _Nautilus_ transporter room were dim, and Chakotay squinted. 

“Sorry.” Kathryn tapped and the illumination increased. “We’re used to running dark.”

The gash across her cheek was white, but Chakotay remembered when it had run red, when the klaxons and the fires and the screams had flooded his senses. He forced away ghosts of soot in his eyelashes, of acrid smoke in his nose and mouth, of the woman in front of him slung over his shoulder as her blood dripped onto the carpet. 

Her hand fluttered to her cheek. 

Damn, he must have been staring again.

“Come on.” Kathryn’s head cocked toward the door.

Chakotay fell into step with her. He knew this was a kindness — she wasn’t striding ahead, she was trying to show that they could walk side by side. 

The way they used to.

“How’s the munchkin?” He asked in the short corridor between the transporter room and the _Nautilus_ control center.

The smile didn’t make it to Kathryn’s eyes, but at least her lips moved in the proper direction. 

“Good. Enjoying the University of Spatial Sciences on Qo'noS. Still looks so much like B’Elanna that you’d think they were temporal twins, not mother and daughter.”

Then it was Chakotay’s smile that didn’t make it to his eyes. 

A door opened in front of them and an arced viewport showed stars on three sides. 

Tom swiveled from the helm.

“Grid four-three-two beta. Unlikely, but worth another sweep.”

Kathryn nodded, Tom tapped, and the stars moved around them.

Chakotay’s weight shifted from one foot to the other. “Ah —”

“Relax, Chakotay.” Tom faced his console again. “I’ve got your ship in a tractor beam. Wouldn’t want to leave you without your ride.”

His nod was crisp, then Chakotay looked to Kathryn. “Any luck?”

Before she could say anything, Tom laughed — a hard, grating sound.

“Can’t you see it, Chakotay? We’re positively swimming in benamite crystals. Abundant, easy to find, grows like moss on a tree. In fact —”

Kathryn’s hand squeezed Tom’s shoulder. Chakotay hadn’t noticed her stepping toward Tom, but she was there, fingers pressing so hard that Tom’s shirt bunched under her grasp. 

“Sorry.” Tom‘s head shook. “Sorry.”

There was another squeeze, then crossed arms. “You said it was important for you to speak to us, Chakotay. This sensor sweep should take five minutes. Is that enough time?”

“Yes.”

He told them about the alien vessel that was able to warp through Federation space, about their service records displayed on Starfleet ships, about the destruction and loss of life. He told them Starfleet was searching for them but probably wouldn’t find them unless they came forward, and they had to come forward, had to protect other ships against the threat of these unknown aliens.

Kathryn’s eyebrows rose for the mention of warp and knitted for the loss of life. But Chakotay could only see the back of Tom’s head, and it didn’t move, not even when Chakotay mentioned Harry as the source of the information. 

“That certainly is quite a story. But let’s get one thing straight.” Kathryn’s hands dropped to her hips. “If we come forward, and that’s not saying we will, but if we do, it will be to save lives and to learn more about how the alien ship can attain warp — not to help Starfleet.”

“Sensor sweep negative,” Tom announced. “Resuming search pattern.”

Annoyance flared from deep in Chakotay’s chest. 

“People are dead. Don’t you give a damn, Paris?”

The helm seat swiveled and a tight finger pointed at Chakotay. “Kathryn, you need to get this guy out of here. Now.”

The door opened and the corridor receded and Chakotay was in the transporter room again. He knew he should leave gracefully, but he couldn’t help asking as he stood on the pad and she set coordinates for beam-out, “Does he give you orders often?”

Her head shook and the light caught her long, white scar. Then the room dissolved and Chakotay was back in his seat at the helm of the _Leakey_. His good hand clenched into a fist that punched the console just once, but hard. 

***

Kathryn hurried back to the control center and found exactly what she had expected. Tom was doubled over in his seat, shoulders shaking, raw sounds of anguish echoing off the bulkheads. 

She reached over him to set the ship for a short impulse jump, enough to be out of visual range of the _Leakey_ , then her arms were around Tom and she was swaying with him.

“It’s okay. He’s gone. It’s okay.”

Tom didn’t stop crying. 


	3. Let’s Make History

In their bed on the _Nautilus_ , Tom was curled on his side, snoring slightly. Kathryn was on her back, eyes darting behind closed lids, the memory-nightmare haunting her again.

“Twenty simulations and the reinforced nacelle pylons held in every one. The depolarization matrix around the fuselage didn’t even flicker.” B’Elanna grinned as she handed over the padd, lieutenant commander pips shining from her collar. “We should be ready for a test flight next week, Admiral, right on schedule.”

Kathryn scrolled. The information on the padd was everything she could have hoped to see. 

“Incredible. You do realize I’ll be commanding the flight in name only? You and Tom and Harry should be in line for the Daystrom Prize for this.”

It was brilliant, B’Elanna’s smile. White and toothy and dazzling, and the part of Kathryn that knew she was dreaming tried to stop, tried to freeze the moment in time and never move forward again. 

But then Kathryn was standing on the bridge of the _NX Ubivis_ and B’Elanna’s voice over the comm said Engineering was ready.

“Why won’t Starfleet postpone the test flight?” Harry looked up from his console. “We need Tom at the helm.”

“I’m sorry, Harry.” Kathryn’s hand rested on Harry’s forearm. “Starfleet wants to keep to schedule and lungworms can last for weeks. Admiral Hayes promised to make sure Tom will be front and center for the official launch.”

Kathryn whimpered in her sleep, trying to call Tom’s name.

“I’m sure Lieutenant Nolan will do a great job.” Chakotay clasped the conn officer’s shoulder and the young man’s head turned, nervous eyes wide with appreciation. 

Kathryn grinned. “Stations, everyone. Let’s make history.”

She sat in her command chair and a soft pressure shifted from her temple to her jaw. Confused, she reached to smooth the sensation away but, instead, Kathryn grasped something that wasn’t there and the dream shattered around her. She was sweaty, heart pounding, with Tom’s thumb stroking her face.

She rolled toward him, and his arms encircled her, warm and familiar. There was no need to thank him for what they had done for each other so many times. Besides, they both knew that if she wasn’t crying, he had stopped the dream in time.

***

Even asleep, Tom’s mouth twitched into a smile. 

“There’s the ship!” He pointed toward the video screen.

From her place on Tom’s lap, eighteen-month-old Miral grinned and her wet thumb slipped out of her mouth. “Mama’s ship.”

“That’s right.” Tom kissed the top of his daughter’s head. On the other side of their living room windows, an oak tree rustled as a pair of squirrels raced each other across branches. “Mama and Daddy and Uncle Harry designed the ship and the propulsion system inside that’s going to let you see the whole galaxy, sweet girl.”

Treatments for lungworms made Tom’s skin itch, but he barely noticed. He was so grateful Starfleet had provided this video feed from a test flight recorder probe. Yes, it was a shame Tom couldn’t pilot the _Ubivis_ himself, but today’s data would make the official launch that much better.

“Here we go!” Tom squirmed with excitement and Miral giggled at being bounced around.

The ship left spacedock.

“Warp one!” Tom crowed. “Warp two! Warp three!”

He didn’t know, of course, but he could guess by the steadily elongating star-streaks around the _Ubivis_.

“Warp four! Warp five! Warp six!”

Miral clapped.

“Warp seven! Warp eight! Warp nine!”

“So fast, Daddy!”

“Yes, sweet girl, and now —”

Memory pierced the dream and Tom had perfect clarity for what was about to happen. He tried to scream, but air rushed from his open mouth with no sound. He tried to turn away from the screen, to focus on the oak trees through the window or his daughter’s last seconds before her world came crashing down. 

But he couldn’t move his head and so he watched, again, as the ship began to shake.

As the warp bubble collapsed.

As a nacelle sheared off.

As the explosion was blindingly bright. 

And Tom jolted awake with wet cheeks and the wrong woman in his arms and she was stroking his shoulder, saying, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” because they always said that to each other even though nothing had been okay since that day nine years ago when Tom watched a video feed with his daughter on his lap.

***

“Were her whereabouts known to me, Starfleet is not an institution I would entrust with that information.” 

The arm of a long, Vulcan robe extended over a wooden table as Tuvok handed Geordi La Forge a cup of tea.

“Do you at least have a way to contact her?” The admiral’s fingers grasped the delicate teacup.

“I regret that you undertook the lengthy journey from Earth to Vulcan without cause.” Tuvok’s head lowered as he sipped his tea. “If you require shelter during your time on this planet, there are a number of lodging facilities that I can recommend.”

Admiral La Forge’s teacup returned to its saucer. “You _do_ know how to contact her.”

“I am not sure what led you to that conclusion.” Tuvok’s tea was gone, but he brought the cup to his lips anyway.

“Look, I’ve been all over Earth, took transporter jumps from ship to ship to get here as quickly as I could. I’ve even called in favors from people I haven’t spoken to since my academy days. Any chance to find Admiral Janeway or Lieutenant Commander Paris is worth pursuing. Wouldn’t you agree that the needs of the many come into play here?”

Tuvok stood and motioned toward the door. “Wouldn’t you say, Admiral, that given Starfleet’s desire for cooperation in its search for its former officers, the more appropriate aphorism would be one from your own planet? ‘Karma is a bitch.’”


	4. You Evidently Know the Speech

The lights brightened. There was no night or day on the _Nautilus_ , of course, but Tom set the illumination to a 24-hour cycle when Miral was little and no one ever changed it. 

The comm beeped, audio-only. 

“One guess,” Tom murmured. 

They both knew the only person meticulous enough to calculate the time on their ship before calling. 

Kathryn shuffled until she was on her side of the bed. Her fingers tapped the comm.

“Good morning, Tuvok. No benamite crystal findings to report, but I presume you knew that we would tell you if we’d been successful.”

“Good morning, Kathryn.” Tuvok’s voice crossed the light years. “As always, the engineers at the Vulcan Science Academy understand the rarity of benamite crystals and will be pleased to accept them when found. In the interim, I have had a visit from a Starfleet admiral. Are you aware of that organization’s search for you and for Mr. Paris?”

“Yes, Chakotay was here yesterday. He told us. We haven’t discussed it yet.”

“Understood. I have communicated with Miral, Moira, and Kathleen Paris — and each informed me of queries from Starfleet. Starfleet also has visited your sister, your Aunt Martha, and Mark Johnson. The Doctor reported multiple inquiries. Furthermore —”

“Goddamn, did they visit my dad’s grave, too?” Tom muttered.

“Good morning, Mr. Paris,” Tuvok said. “I trust you are well.”

Tom rubbed his temples. “I haven’t been well in a long time, Tuvok. But thanks for asking.”

“I’m sorry you were troubled, old friend.” Kathryn’s finger hovered over the comm. “We’ll talk about it and figure out what to do. Has Starfleet pulled Seven into all this?”

“Yes. She evidently recommended Starfleet look for you, as she put it, ‘up its own asshole.’”

“Attagirl,” Kathryn said. “Thank you, Tuvok. Janeway out.”

She cut the comm.

“We need to decide.” 

Tom’s arm went over his eyes. “I’m not going to do a damn thing for Starfleet.”

“Neither am I.” 

The arm lifted. “No speech about not allowing our pain to stop us from doing the right thing for the innocent citizens of the Federation? No reminder of the need to investigate any way to regain faster-than-light travel?”

The scar across Kathryn’s cheek flexed with her smirk. “You evidently know the speech, so there’s no need to repeat it.”

Tom smiled slightly. Then the truth hit him and he rocketed to sit up in bed. “You want us to find those murder aliens ourselves and deal with them directly. Even though they could be the Kazon or the Nyrians or plenty of other species from the Delta Quadrant or the Alpha Quadrant that would love to kill us.”

Kathryn gave his thigh a quick pat. “See? I knew there was no need for a speech.”

Tom cradled his head in his hands.

***

Chakotay conveyed data from Harry that Kathryn used to modify sensors to scan for the green-scaled ship. Since Starfleet had no idea how to defend against the alien weapons, Tuvok analyzed what little information there was on previous engagements with the vessel and sent recommendations for evasive maneuvers and shield modifications.

It took a week to complete the upgrades. 

A week of not detecting a single benamite crystal, yet again. 

A week in which another Starfleet ship was destroyed by the aliens, so coordinates of the attack, relayed from Harry to Chakotay to Kathryn, gave Tom a direction to point the _Nautilus_.

Even with the change in routine, though, life onboard followed its usual pattern. 

Nightmares notwithstanding, Tom and Kathryn got enough sleep to smile a little as their day began, to be the people they once were — joking, generous, kind.

But by midday, Tom’s voice would snap in irritation or quiver with sadness. Some days, he apologized too much. Other days, he didn’t apologize enough. He would pilot just fine, attend to his daughter when she was onboard. But he once explained it to Kathryn as feeling like his insides were drowning in a whirlpool of grief, swept away by currents of what-ifs and should-have-beens that were a testament to the love he had lost. 

The maelstrom in Tom’s mind would ease, though, just as the ache across Kathryn’s cheek would intensify. By afternoon, use of muscles around damaged nerves sent sparks of pain shooting through her scar. She would bark at Tom, refusing to pause in her work even as her pain sharpened into burning that divided her focus, forcing her to ask him to repeat himself as she gripped her console with one hand and input data with the other. On the worst days, when her vision blurred and her scar felt like it was on fire, Tom would administer a hypospray that rarely helped much. But he would hold her hand and wait with her until the pain receded.

By evening, the stench of failure and loss permeated the ship. Every so often, Tom would suggest they stop searching for benamite crystals and tell the Vulcan Science Academy to figure out another way to power the quantum slipstream technology that could return faster-than-light travel to Federation space. But Kathryn would stare at him, eyes wide, and ask what they should do instead, and Tom never had an answer.

When the lights dimmed for night, they would stumble to bed. There were three small bedrooms on the _Nautilus_ , all sharing a common bathroom. At first, Miral had one room, Kathryn another, and Tom the third. But Miral would cry for her mother and Tom would cry for his wife and Kathryn would cry for all of it, so they ended up in one bed with soothing words and comforting hands. Miral was the only one who outgrew the arrangement.

Yes, Tom and Kathryn had sex. Sometimes, it was to get to sleep after a stressful day. Other times, it was because they were riled up after an argument or because they needed to feel something, anything. Every so often, it was sweet, with lingering kisses and gentle touches. But Tom always had trouble looking at Kathryn for a few days after that.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Tom sipped coffee as he studied sensor readings one morning. “Here’s something I’ll bet you remember.”

Kathryn tapped her console to access his data. 

The display showed an ion trail left by a warp engine. 

***

“What do you make of this, Captain Kim?”

Harry squinted at stars that filled one side of his screen. Admiral La Forge sat within the other side. “Looks like the Tellar system, sir.”

The admiral frowned. “The ship traversing the system is what I thought might interest you. Usually Starfleet wouldn’t detect a vessel without a location transponder or plasma exhaust, but do you see disruption in the ion trail?”

Harry saw it. “I can’t say for sure, sir. It’s been a long time since I’ve analyzed an ion trail left by a warp engine.”

“Well, Captain, here’s some additional information, then. Five ships are getting in position to transporter jump a Starfleet shuttle to study this unique vessel that under normal circumstances would be virtually invisible to sensors.”

Harry knew cargo transporters could be used in a transporter jump. Jumping moved people more quickly than impulse engines, and the technology had turned starships and space stations into pass-throughs, places where a person would materialize and dematerialize before taking a breath. But jumping an entire shuttle was a huge amount of energy to expend on one mission. 

“Good to know, sir,” he said.

“We’re jumping personnel, too.” Admiral La Forge leaned forward. “Captain Nog is on his way to take temporary command of your ship. You’re going to join me on the shuttle mission.”

Harry’s fingers twitched, as they had so many times before, to yank off his commbadge and drop it onto his desk.

But he forced his hands to his sides and said, “Yes. Sir.”


	5. Something’s Wrong

“Warp 9.8,” Lieutenant Nolan announced in Kathryn’s dream. 

“Admiral.” B’Elanna’s voice piped through the _Ubivis_ comm system. “Something’s wrong.”

“What is it, B’Elanna?”

“These readings. Our engine is fine, but there’s something wrong with … well, wrong with space. Recommend we abort the flight.”

“Confirmed,” Harry said. “The calculations and mechanics are solid, but there’s some kind of spatial phenomenon intensifying as we approach transwarp.”

“Lieutenant, hit the brakes,” Kathryn ordered. 

“I see the variance.” Lieutenant Nolan’s fingers tapped furiously. “I can compensate.”

“You were given an order.” Chakotay stood from his command chair. “And I expect you to —”

The helm console exploded, throwing the lieutenant’s lifeless body backward. 

“What the hell was that?” Kathryn’s head snapped to see Harry and white-hot pain shot across her cheek. She shouted through it, “Try to access helm control, Harry. B’Elanna, can you disengage from Engineering?”

There was a sharp sound and a bright light and heat. Some part of Kathryn’s brain understood that her command computer had exploded.

The next thing she saw was a white blur. She squinted and the blur sharpened until it was hull plating. Pieces of the _Ubivis'_ hull were floating on the other side of a viewport. She was in an escape pod. People were crying and someone was shouting about medical emergencies. 

Kathryn’s throat burned as if she had inhaled smoke. Yet she croaked out the word:

“Report.”

Something warm trickled down her cheek and Kathryn’s hand moved to touch skin that felt like it was on fire. Her fingers came away bloody.

“Report!”

On the side that didn’t hurt, soft pressure shifted from her temple to her jaw.

“Report!”

The pressure intensified.

“Report!”

The pressure shifted to her shoulders and they started to shake.

“Report!”

Her eyes snapped open and Tom was bent over her, hands tight on her shoulders.

Tears leaked. 

Tom flopped onto his side of the bed.

“Every time,” he muttered. 

“Please. Please don’t.”

“No. Every time you let Chakotay on this ship, you have nightmares for weeks. I have nightmares for weeks. Do you want to know what your ‘Report! Report!’ pulled me out of?”

Kathryn didn’t get a chance to reply. 

“Harry telling me over and over that B’Elanna’s last words on the escape pod were for me to be happy, that she knew I would have prevented the accident if I had been there.”

It wasn’t a new argument, but Kathryn decided, as she had many times before, that bickering was better than going back to sleep. “And so you pushed Harry out of your life because he made a mistake? Because he thought B’Elanna’s words would be a comfort, not a knife through your heart?”

“A comfort?” Tom’s arms crossed. “Maybe if he’d said it once. But trying to talk me out of grief? Trying to cheer me up instead of admitting what we both knew? The accident was my fault. I could have appealed Starfleet Medical’s decision.”

“Starfleet Medical wouldn’t have —” 

“But, no, I sat on my ass and let a stupid case of lungworms keep me from my duty. My piloting at Caldik Prime ruined my life once and my lack of piloting on the _Ubivis_ ruined it again, and the lives of everyone I cared about. Harry had no right to —”

“To try to be nice to you? He was your best friend.”

“And B’Elanna was my wife and Starfleet was your goddamn religion that fucked us all over.”

Kathryn’s arm went over her eyes, stinging through closed lids.

“I understand —” Her voice cracked. “I understand why you don’t want to see Harry, even if I disagree. I understand why you blame yourself for the accident, even if I disagree. And you need to understand, even if you disagree, that I’m not going to cut Chakotay out of our lives. You know that Chakotay and I were —”

“You don’t still hear it every time Chakotay talks?” Tom’s breath shuddered. “You don’t still think about it every time you see Chakotay’s face?”

The stinging in Kathryn’s eyes trickled down her temples.

Of course she still heard it.

Of course she still saw it.

The Federation News Service covered the accident nonstop for weeks, always including the last words a test flight recorder probe received before losing communication with the _Ubivis_ , “All hands, report to escape pods. This is Captain Chakotay. Repeat: Report to the closest escape pod immediately — and run like your life depends on it.”

The media had declared Chakotay a hero.

As Federation citizens tried to untangle their own confusion and fear, Chakotay’s voice became the voice of the strong leader who saved as many crew members as possible. His face became the face of the best qualities of Starfleet — bravery, wisdom, thinking under pressure. 

After all, there wasn’t much else for the news to report. Scientists were trying to understand what had happened, and Starfleet didn’t release any other information during the weeks it took for the escape pods to return to Earth.

Weeks in which Tom begged his father for answers, but ended up having to watch the news like everyone else. Tom didn’t care who was a hero and who wasn’t. But Chakotay’s voice became the knell of Tom’s desperation, and Chakotay’s face etched into Tom’s panic-fueled visions of what had happened to his wife and his friends. 

Kathryn wouldn’t see the broadcasts until later. She spent those weeks sedated — against her will, but the burns she received when her computer console exploded could have ripped apart if she moved. And all the escape pods’ dermal regenerators had been drained attempting to treat crewmember injuries that didn’t respond to treatment.

It didn’t matter that one of Chakotay’s best friends died in front of him, her Klingon forehead ridges streaked with blood.

It didn’t matter that Chakotay rejected the hero label the minute he learned about it, pleading, instead, for the Federation News Service to recognize the work of his friends and colleagues. 

It didn’t matter that Chakotay didn’t want to be the face or the voice of anything but himself. 

The damage had been done.

“It’s not Chakotay’s fault.” Kathryn spoke through a too-tight throat.

“You’re right. It’s not.” The heels of Tom’s hands pressed to his forehead. “But tell me you’re glad he saved your life on the _Ubivis_. Tell me that just once.”

And the tiny, black ship in the vastness of space became a _Nautilus_ -shaped dot in Kathryn’s mind. Small and insignificant, unable to find a single benamite crystal, not worth anyone’s time or effort. 

Her skin prickled in goosebumps. 

No. 

She couldn’t give in to aftershocks of grief that seemed unending. She needed a tether — a connection to a life worth living.

She rolled toward Tom. 

Her fingers shook only a little as they curled around the waistband of his sleep shorts. 

“Please?” she asked. 

His sharp intake of breath was through teeth. “I don’t —” 

She knew her eyes were pleading, but she was beyond caring. 

“All right.” Tom lifted his hips and Kathryn tugged the shorts down. As he pulled off his own shirt, she bit her lips together so she wouldn’t thank him.

***

Starfleet regulations capped non-urgent transporter jumps at five per person, per day. Top engineers insisted as many as fifteen jumps could be completed before pattern buffers would have trouble stabilizing repeatedly rematerialized atoms, but not many people still trusted Starfleet engineers.

“I can’t keep this up,” Harry panted after eight jumps, his duffel bag heavy on his shoulder. “Please, no more today.”

The transporter operator’s lips pursed. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Yet another transporter room disappeared. 

***

Chakotay’s comm system chirped. Expecting his sister, he tapped without looking.

Tuvok’s face filled the screen.

“I trust I am reaching you at a good time, Mr. Chakotay.”

It was just after dinner. Chakotay’s belly was full and the evening hours were his best — a day’s work done and relaxation with a good book until his eyelids grew heavy. 

Tuvok always did know how to exploit every tactical advantage. 

“It is a good time, Tuvok. But you don’t make social calls, so I’m curious as to what you want.”

Tuvok held up a padd. “I want to inform you of my analysis of the alien ship, cross-referenced with _Voyager’s_ security logs — which indicate you possess unique insight into potentially grave danger to Kathryn Janeway and Tom Paris.”


	6. He’s Trying to Get Someone’s Attention

Comm systems didn’t use subspace anymore. A series of signals that bounced off spatial phenomena worked almost as well — better, actually, for long-range and audio-only communication. However, those signals couldn’t function within a warp ion trail. Kathryn and Tom had agreed that leaving the _Nautilus_ without communication wasn’t much of a risk, though. Reports indicated the green-scaled ship never responded to hails. It was as if those aboard weren’t listening, only demanding.

But the _Nautilus_ had been tracking the warp ion trail for days with no sign of the vessel.

“I could try to get their attention with a few of those evasive maneuvers Tuvok sent,” Tom joked one morning. “Or make up my own. ‘Pattern: flea jumping on dog’ or ‘Pattern: Miral’s room after Kathryn replicated her that chemistry set.’ Maybe one of those would work.”

“You know what?” Kathryn’s head tilted. “I like it.”

“Chemistry?”

“And your idea. Let’s give it a try.”

Tom grinned and the _Nautilus_ began to pitch and roll.

***

“Welcome aboard.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Harry had just beamed onto the shuttle, and Admiral La Forge swiveled from a console. 

“I’d like you to take a look at these readings, Captain.” 

Harry walked, stiff-legged and with the help of his cane, to look at the admiral’s computer screen. The surveillance footage showed a small, dark ship dancing through space. 

“I wouldn’t be able to say, sir.” Harry glanced away, his duffel bag heavy on his shoulder.

Admiral La Forge sighed.

“You’ve been less than cooperative at every turn, and I understand that, I do. So let’s lay all our cards on the table.”

The admiral motioned for Harry to sit at the neighboring station. They were the only two people on the shuttle and Harry eased into the seat. He shifted his duffel bag to his lap, the strap still on his shoulder.

Silver eyes somber, the admiral leaned toward Harry.

“What happened to you and your crewmates on the _Ubivis_ was wrong, Captain, and I don’t exactly appreciate being the one tasked with fixing problems that I warned Starfleet about during your cadet days. When Starfleet Command classified information on warp engines causing subspace instabilities, my protests were met with bureaucratic propaganda about space exploration and, later, with the need to keep focus on winning the Dominion War — and that meant plenty of travel at high warp.” 

Harry’s fingers tightened on the strap of his duffel bag. Reminders that he had missed the war weren’t as common lately, but they still rankled. He forced himself to keep listening. 

“Why that information wasn’t declassified, why sensors weren’t recalibrated to detect those instabilities once the war was over, why Command acted like it had no idea those instabilities could do exactly what its own scientists had predicted — your guess is as good as mine. And learning that a quadrant-wide latticework of subspace instabilities ignited when you and your crewmates attempted to reach transwarp was among the worst moments of my life as an engineer and as a Starfleet officer.”

For a second, Harry could see the readings that indicated subspace was fracturing around the _Ubivis_ , could feel the heat from Admiral Janeway’s computer exploding, could hear Chakotay shouting for everyone to report to escape pods. Harry stiffened with the muscle memory of the subspace instability that ripped into his thigh as he ran with Chakotay, of his own scream, of leaning on Chakotay to stagger forward even though Chakotay’s hand was bleeding and he had the admiral slung over a shoulder as he assured Harry, again and again, that she was breathing. 

But Admiral La Forge was still talking.

“Starfleet is fallible, Captain, and I can’t promise that every decision will be to your liking — or to mine. But I can promise you that Starfleet won’t give up on trying to re-accomplish warp. I can promise you that Starfleet Medical will keep searching for ways to fix the subspace injuries that affected you and your crewmates. And I want to promise that Starfleet is doing everything it can to understand the threat of that green-scaled ship. But I need your help to keep that promise, Captain Kim. So, if you would, please, help me decipher what I’m looking at when I see a ship skipping through space in the vicinity of another ship that scares the hell out of me.”

Harry’s eyes closed. He knew Admiral La Forge was trying — and that was more effort than anyone had shown Harry in a long time. Not since the day Harry was so desperate to make things better that he refused to stop talking, refused to listen, refused to even consider until later, much later, that his words were hurting the very person he wanted to help.

The person whose name Harry needed to disclose to the admiral.

“What you see is Tom Paris flying, sir. I’ve never seen the ship either, but his style is unmistakable.”

“Thank you.” Admiral La Forge nodded. “Do you have any insight into why his ship is twirling like a Circassian acrobat?”

Harry glanced at the display. “If I know Tom, and there was a time when I did, I would say he’s trying to get someone’s attention — and it’s not anyone in Starfleet.”

***

“Unknown vessel. If you can hear me, my name is Chakotay. I’m the one you should be angry with, not Kathryn Janeway or Tom Paris. I’m moving toward your position, but it will take me time to get there. I await your response. Again, please do not attack anyone else. I take full responsibility.”

***

The scientist on the green-scaled ship turned to her mentor, the man who had given her everything — access to his community, training in the ways of their species, and names for the humans they sought. It had been a lengthy journey and they were close, she was sure.

“It is as if the ship is attempting to be noticed despite simplistic encryption of its homing beacon,” the scientist mused, her large eyes focused on the viewscreen. “The vessel jumps like a springtail insect on a swamp log.”

Vasodilatation deepened the green shading on her mentor’s face, the yellow seeming to recede. 

“If the ship is attempting to be noticed, then what do you believe would be the best course of action?” 

The scientist grinned. “To notice it.”

Her mentor, Professor Forra Gegen, a Voth who saw his Distant Origin theory dismissed by his own people, turned to the captain of their vessel. 

“Set an intercept course.”

The captain nodded. “Let us hope those onboard do not lie like the others. It is baffling to claim they do not know the whereabouts of the individuals we seek when their own computers prove knowledge. It is as if they do not comprehend the punishment for denying truth.”

The scientist’s gaze drifted to unfamiliar stars outside the viewport and she prayed this encounter would be different. 


	7. Your Terms are Accepted

“The ship is heading for us — at high warp.” Tom double-checked his readings. “Time to intercept,” his eyebrows rose, “ninety seconds.”

Kathryn was intent on her own console. “Two other ships are approaching from unique vectors. Do you see them?”

Tom nodded. “Looks like Chakotay is willing to bust an engine coil to get here. And … Starfleet?”

“Let’s back out of the ion trail,” Kathryn said. “Someone may need to hail us.”

Tom’s fingers raced across his console. Through the viewports, the stars shifted. “Maybe Starfleet will transport over a padd.”

They both knew it was a padd delivered to Kathryn at Starfleet Medical that informed her why the _Ubivis_ flight had failed. “Miscommunication at headquarters,” stated the text-only briefing. “Test flight should have been postponed pending further study of classified subspace instabilities. Maintain confidentiality. An officer will be dispatched to confer with you as soon as possible.” From the biobed where, for days, she had watched broadcasts about the test flight, Kathryn commed the Federation News Service, read them every word, then resigned her commission.

“If a Starfleet padd materializes on this ship, you can be the one to read it.” Kathryn’s fingers tapped furiously and she didn’t look up from her console. “I’m starting to get garbled hails from Chakotay and from the Starfleet shuttle. I can’t clear them up yet.”

But then computers on the _Nautilus_ no longer responded to taps. Instead, words, pictures, and holo-images flashed past accompanied by screeching sounds as the computer narrated information in every language at once. 

Tom and Kathryn looked at each other, hands clamped over ears. The intelligence Chakotay had supplied from Harry had told them to expect this. Next, it would be time to deploy Tuvok’s tactical advice for negotiations. 

Sure enough, the computer fell silent and official images of themselves were on every screen. In her ship operator’s license, Kathryn’s scar was shiny and purple. It had been only a few hours since she had left the hospital, chimed at the door of Tom’s home, and asked him to search for benamite with her. In his license picture, Tom was ashen, still in the shock of grief from B’Elanna’s death, his posture crooked from Miral resting on his hip, her tiny elbow visible where it bent so she could suck her thumb. In the background of both pictures was the shipyard where Tom and Kathryn had bought the vessel they christened the _Nautilus_ after Jules Verne’s fictional submarine that evaded governments while gaining scientific knowledge.

Kathryn blinked rapidly and looked at the ceiling. 

Tom stared at his hands.

Then they both turned to the viewports. The green-scaled vessel had dropped out of warp nose-to-nose with the _Nautilus_.

“Bring them to us,” an unfamiliar voice said.

“Unknown vessel,” Kathryn spoke into the comm system. “Under the condition that you no longer kill anyone and under the condition that you are open to discussion regarding the technology that allows you to attain warp in this damaged region of space, you can receive transfer of the two people you seek.”

There was silence.

Tom pressed his sweaty palms to his thighs.

Kathryn bit the side of her tongue. 

“Your terms are accepted. Bring them to us.”

“We are them,” Tom shouted. He tried to lock out the _Nautilus’_ controls, but the ship didn’t respond to his commands. “Go ahead and —”

They both dematerialized. 

***

“Did they just transport off that ship?” Admiral La Forge swiveled toward Harry.

“Affirmative.” Harry tapped his console. “It wasn’t a Federation transport signature, either. I can’t read anything inside the alien vessel, though. Its shields are too strong.”

“Those aliens can transport through shields?” 

The hint of wonderment in the admiral’s voice turned Harry’s stomach. He swiveled to face his superior officer. “You wanted to lay cards on the table earlier. So I have to know now — do you care about my former crewmates at all? Or only the technology their capture might unlock?”

The admiral’s head bobbled to one side as his neck flexed. “I understand how much your former crewmates mean to you, Captain. I’ve served with people who are like family to me. The priority, though, is protection of Federation interests, which entails a minimum loss of life while maximizing opportunity for technological benefit — whether that’s regaining warp or improving transporters or something else we can’t envision yet.”

A snicker burst out before Harry could stop it.

Admiral La Forge leaned toward him. “What’s funny about this, Captain?”

“It’s just that,” Harry’s head shook, “I’d bet my own life that Kathryn Janeway, an officer Starfleet could have killed because its left arm didn’t know what its right arm was doing — I’ll bet she’s thinking the exact same thing.”

The admiral stared out the viewport at the green-scaled ship. “Let’s hope so.”

***

The Starfleet shuttle seemed to be ignoring him and neither the _Nautilus_ nor the alien ship would respond to his comms. 

Chakotay’s chest shuddered. 

He had avoided Starfleet for so long. 

When he resigned — leaving Starfleet on principle for the second time — public information officers had been furious. They had accused him of abandoning the people of the Federation, people who needed someone to give them hope after the collapse of faster-than-light travel. A snively lieutenant had said, “Like it or not, you’re a hero, so you may as well enjoy it.”

Disgust had pooled in Chakotay’s stomach. 

“My friends are dead, injured, or in mourning,” he had said. “I won’t allow myself to be used as a shield for damage Starfleet allowed to happen.”

But … what if someone with life-saving information had alerted Starfleet in time to prevent that damage? 

With his good hand, Chakotay tapped to open a channel to the Starfleet shuttle. 

“This is the independent shipping vessel _Leakey_. I have critical information regarding the aliens and dangers they may present.”

***

Tom and Kathryn materialized in what appeared to be a brig complete with a buzzing forcefield and two, single bunks folded down from opposite walls.

There were no viewports, but they could sense that the ship wasn’t in motion.

Minutes ticked past.

Tom’s breathing regulated. 

Kathryn’s pulse normalized.

They couldn’t see or hear anything beyond the forcefield. Bulkheads were smooth with no indication of access ports or computer interfaces.

“How long do you think we’re supposed to wait?” Tom asked.

Kathryn shrugged. 

She sat with her back against the bulkhead opposite the forcefield and patted for Tom to join her. He did and her head rested on his shoulder.


	8. I Assume You Have a Plan

The scientist held tightly to her data collection input module, ready to log actions of the Tom Paris and the Kathryn Janeway on the other side of their forcefield.

On multiple occasions, the Tom shouted for whomever was in charge to attend to the prisoners.

The Kathryn inspected all bulkheads, then called for the Tom to help. Together, they unlocked access to a bathroom designed for their species and a food replicator programmed with suitable options. The scientist nodded as she logged their truthfulness in cooperation.

For a time, the Kathryn’s fingers pressed to a white marking on her face. Bio-readings suggested inflamed nerves, likely due to use of surrounding muscles that were heavily damaged. The Tom vastly slowed his speaking rate, yet the Kathryn still requested repetition of his statements, which he did without argument. However, the Kathryn began to engage in non-verbal utterances, and the Tom hurried to their replicator and instructed it to create cubes of frozen water. He had the Kathryn incline her head so he could apply the ice to her white marking. Upon receiving her thanks, his lips impacted upon her forehead. The scientist logged this interaction as comfort, not medicine, and prayed she was correct in her determination.

Rest cycles commenced, as expected, in the separate, single bunks provided to them. However, bio-readings indicated neither the Tom nor the Kathryn achieved sleep. When the Tom dragged his rest cushion to the center of their observation holding room, the Kathryn shifted on her bunk to watch him, then pulled her cushion to be next to the Tom’s. They held hands and bio-readings soon indicated achievement of non-REM sleep. After achieving REM sleep, however, the Tom began to cry out and the Kathryn awoke. She purposefully disturbed his sleep, after which both their sleep cycles restarted. The scientist thought this was odd, and made note of it.

Upon completion of their rest cycle, both the Tom and the Kathryn appeared interested in consumption of a dark liquid from the replicator. They then attempted various escape techniques, none of which were successful. Despite lack of progress, their mood appeared cheerful, with lips curved upward and occasional discussion resulting in pats to shoulders or forearms.

The scientist recapped her findings to her mentor, then added, “Interpersonal communication appears authentic in all interactions. No falsehoods evident. Do you feel it is time to end behavior analysis and begin the interview phase, Gegen?”

The professor nodded, yellow streaks on his skin brightening with excitement.

She tapped to lower the forcefield.

***

The forcefield buzz stopped and Tom and Kathryn turned, startled.

The bipedal alien standing just outside their brig cell had large, dark eyes framed by long eyelashes. Its face was mottled shades of green, shiny, and with no discernible nose. Two long arms ended in hands with four fingers, each with three knuckles. 

And it was either smiling or grimacing.

“Hello,” the alien said. “It is a gratification to meet you. We have journeyed very far and searched mightily.”

“Is this how you treat all your guests?” Tom motioned toward their cell. “Such fine accommodations?”

But Kathryn was staring at a second alien standing next to the first. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve seen your species before. You’re Voth.”

***

“Nobody knows the Voth like I do!” Chakotay worked to keep his tone level. The last thing he wanted was for Starfleet to switch from stalling him to detaining him. “I’ve stood in their Ministry, seen the look in the eyes of their leadership as they denied science and forced a good man to recant the proof behind his theory. You don’t need a team to go in there, phasers blasting. You need me. Let’s work together to get me onboard that ship.”

"Agreed," Harry said.

Admiral La Forge exhaled slowly, then said the words Chakotay had grown weary of, “I’ll talk to headquarters and get back to you.”

With a nod, the admiral strode to his quarters, where Chakotay assumed he would place yet another comm call to Starfleet Command.

Chakotay leaned toward Harry, his voice low. “What do you think? Will Starfleet go along with my plan?

Harry’s head shook. “No. The admiral cares more about how the ship attains warp and transports through shields than anything else. But I have another idea.”

***

“Professor Gegen,” the Voth introduced himself. He indicated the alien next to him. “This is Soter. She has been quite eager to meet you.”

“Gegen.” Kathryn had that look that Tom knew so well. Brow furrowed. Lower lip between teeth. She was sifting through memories, trying to find something. 

Her chin rose. She had found it. 

“In the Delta Quadrant, on _Voyager_ , you spied on my crew. You took my first officer hostage. His logs stated that your own Ministry denied proof of your Distant Origin theory that humans and Voth descended from a common ancestor.”

Soter flinched, and Tom’s instincts told him that her facial expressions were analogous to humans. 

Gegen nodded. “All true. I was found guilty of heresy against Doctrine, and sentenced to practice metallurgical analysis — an incredibly fortunate punishment. I was examining shuttle components, damage from what appeared to be a rough landing on the fourth planet of an uninhabited system far from the Voth City Ship, when I made the find of my career.”

Her hands went to her hips and Kathryn demanded, “And what might that be?”

But Tom had landed that shuttle. He’d been half out of his mind, but he remembered losing hull plating as _Voyager's_ shuttle _Cochrane_ skipped through swampland on what had been an uninhabited planet. And he looked at Soter, at eager eyes that were wide with hope, and Tom thought of Miral, and the terrible coffee substitute he’d choked down that morning sloshed in his stomach. 

“Soter,” Tom said, and the shiny-faced alien turned to him. “Are you a hyper-evolved descendant of both humans and Voth — and directly related to both Kathryn and me?”

Four-fingered, three-knuckled hands hitched on hips and Tom knew the answer to his question.

***

Admiral La Forge emerged from his quarters. “I contacted Starfleet Command, but there was too much interference to understand their response.”

Harry and Chakotay exchanged a look. It was highly unlikely that after a half-dozen comms back and forth that there was suddenly interference when reaching out to headquarters. 

Was the admiral going rogue? Could this Starfleet bigwig possibly understand the need to save former crewmates at the expense of protocol?

The admiral’s silver eyes shifted from Harry to Chakotay and back. “So, gentlemen, I assume you have a plan?”


	9. What Is It You Want Us To Do?

“I am the result of your genetic experiment, the Tom,” Soter said. “It is an honor to meet the great scientists whose work ushered in the Mandate of Truth.”

Soter’s head lowered, her long eyelashes prominent. 

“Explain.” Kathryn stepped toward Soter. 

It was too early in the day for pain to be interfering with Kathryn’s ability to think clearly. How was she not comprehending this?

“Kathryn,” Tom hissed. “A shuttle. The fourth planet. A hyper-evolved, reptilian species.”

Her eyes rolled. “I gathered the implications, Tom. I was referring to the ‘Mandate of Truth.’”

Tom exhaled.

Gegen cleared his throat. 

“Allow me to begin the tale. It started when a creature on the fourth planet observed my metallurgical analysis of shuttle debris. I had never seen a life-form like this creature, and I simply couldn’t resist sampling its genetics. My cross-reference to numerous databases, including the one I downloaded from _Voyager_ , linked the creature to Voth, to humans, and to the two of you in particular.” Gegen motioned to Tom and Kathryn. “That observant creature became Soter, and she and her siblings convinced the Voth Ministry of clear evolutionary divergence and reconvergence of our two species. At long last, false doctrine was overturned! Many Voth rejoiced to know we were not alone in the galaxy. The Ministry saw such happiness and wished to never repeat its error of denying science. This ushered in our Mandate of Truth, a law that applies to all Voth encounters. Simply put: To lie in any way — scientific, judicial, even a polite fib — has become punishable by death.”

Two sets of blue eyes widened. If classified information was considered a lie, then a Mandate of Truth could have prevented the _Ubivis_ accident. But there was no way a society could function under such a stringent rule.

“At first, the mandate was deemed a sensible policy, an improvement from the lies that dominated our past.” Gegen’s head shook. “But your assistance is required to remedy a situation spiraling rapidly out of control.”

Kathryn shifted closer to Tom. “What is it you want us to do?”

Tom glanced at his — daughter? experimental data set? mistake? — and Soter spoke evenly, as if she had practiced her response to such a question.

“To allow our testimony to the Ministry, Gegen resequenced my genome and those of my siblings presently on the Voth City Ship. He made us bipedal so we could stand and he strengthened our vocal cords so we could speak to defend ourselves as living proof that humans retain Voth genes that will eventually reassert themselves,” Soter said. “My status as an evolved Voth is unquestioned. However, as interpretations of the Mandate of Truth have become more stringent, my resequenced genome is now considered a lie against medical truth.”

“As is any treatment for disease,” Gegen added. “Voth are dying of easily cured conditions, but medication has been deemed a lie. Voth suffer because pain relief is deemed a falsehood against the body. Any attempt to assist others is deemed a hindrance to our true evolutionary path.”

Kathryn’s scar flexed, and Tom could practically feel one of her pain relief hyposprays in his hand. 

“Choosing to assist others has been a key facet of human evolution,” Kathryn said.

Gegen looked away. Was he afraid to contradict his society? Afraid to lie?

Soter’s voice was soft. “Then I pray you will listen to those who stand before you now to request your assistance.”

His arms crossed and Tom repeated Kathryn’s question, “What is it you want us to do?”

The yellow shading on Gegen’s face intensified. “We need you both to testify to the Ministry that your genetic experiment that resulted in Soter and her siblings was a quest for evolutionary truth. If knowledge-based genomic manipulation created evolved Voth, then this would prove that purposeful application of scientific and medical technologies can result in greater good, such as Soter and her siblings persuading the Ministry to abandon falsehoods of the past.”

Tom’s hand raked his hair. “And if the genetic manipulation wasn’t purposeful? If it was an accident — then what happens?”

Green hues deepened across Gegen’s cheeks. “Then the Mandate of Truth is proven correct, yet again, and extreme enforcement would continue. Soter and her siblings would be put to death.”

An ache took hold in Tom’s stomach. He knew, he _knew_ , what Kathryn was thinking — and he didn’t like it.

Sure enough, Kathryn addressed Gegen. “If we go with you, if we testify — would you share your warp technology with us and allow us to convey that information to the Vulcan Science Academy?”

“No!” Anger shot through Tom’s chest. “We aren’t going anywhere. The truth is that transwarp doesn’t affect the human body when fueled by solid trilithium, but a dilithium fuel source will —”

“Tom!” Kathryn pulled his elbow and led him to a corner of their cell. She whispered, “Soter is correct that she’s more science experiment than offspring, but she and her siblings deserve to live. The Voth deserve to be free of extremism and the people of the Federation deserve warp.”

“All that may be true, but there’s the detail of ‘knowledge-based genomic manipulation.’” Tom's voice was low. “My memories are hazy, but I don’t recall having Petri dishes or gene resequencers on that planet. Are you proposing we lie to a species that punishes lying by death? Because I don’t see the point in dying if it only strengthens the Voth’s obsession with truth and pisses off a species that can destroy starships.”

Kathryn’s mouth opened. No sound came out, though, and she closed it again. 

Tom peeked at Gegen and Soter. Both their faces were downcast. 

Tom’s stomach ache intensified.

***

“If they aren’t dead, they’ll kill you for this.”

Harry was on the Starfleet shuttle, his voice tinny through the _Nautilus_ comm system. 

Chakotay was thankful Tom hadn’t locked out helm control. Guessing a passcode for Kathryn might be possible. Trying to figure out one for Tom would be an exercise in futility. 

“This was your plan, Harry.” Chakotay tapped to set navigation. 

“My plan was to use the _Leakey_. How was I supposed to know your cargo hold is stuffed to the gills with supplies for your tribe?”

“Gentlemen,” Admiral La Forge interrupted. “Let’s get a move on. This is a complicated maneuver.”

Chakotay held back his chortle. He had done this before, after all. “Just keep the transporter lock on me, Admiral, and I’ll be fine either way.”

He backed up the _Nautilus_ , then Chakotay laid in course and speed to ram the green-scaled ship at full impulse.

***

Tom and Kathryn’s heads jerked up as a door opened. A Voth they had never seen strode in.

“Gegen,” the Voth said urgently. “The ship that leaps like an insect appears to be preparing to impale itself upon our hull. There is one lifesign aboard. The impact will not damage our ship, but the pilot would not survive. I pledged no more killing and I must live my truth.”

“Understood, Captain. Beam the ship operator here,” Gegen said.

The Voth hurried away. 

Kathryn’s cheek was already beginning to ache. Now, her jaw clenched. Who the hell had taken their ship? Who would dare to steal, then destroy their home? Who could possibly have the gall to —

The person materialized in front of her. 

Broad chest. 

Damaged hand. 

A tattoo-lined forehead and chiseled face the Federation News Service had superimposed over an exploding ship as his voice called for crew to report to escape pods. Because she hadn’t been able to do her duty, hadn’t been able to protect her people, hadn’t been able to protect space. She had been stuck in a propped-up biobed, her body weakened by over-sedation, as she watched the news and asked over and over why no one from Starfleet Command would return her comms. 

But Kathryn snapped back to the present when Soter screamed. 


	10. Let’s Talk about How I Can Help

“This man,” Soter pointed a shaky finger at Chakotay, “is a wrongdoer. When my siblings and I were small, he removed the life-givers from the swamp.”

Gegen’s eyes flicked from Soter to Chakotay, whose eyebrows had shot up at the accusation against him. “No. I know him, too. He stood by me in opposition to the Ministry. This man is steadfast.”

And it all clicked in Kathryn’s mind — how to help the Voth, how to regain warp technology, how to appease Tom’s concerns. She just needed Chakotay to understand and agree. 

“This man,” she stepped forward and forced herself to clasp Chakotay’s shoulder, “is the answer to everyone’s problems.”

It was like the old days. She could see him take the mental leap to follow her lead. 

“Let’s talk about how I can help,” Chakotay said. 

Gegen and Soter were staring, and Kathryn began to pace, filling the distance between mammals and reptiles.

“What you see before you is one person with two equally accurate truths.” Kathryn pointed at Chakotay. “He exemplifies the complexity of circumstance and the impossibility of absolute truth. This is the way forward — bring him to the Ministry, and let him help the Voth embrace the nuances of life instead of being imprisoned by absolutes.”

She glanced at Tom. He met her gaze and his chin lowered slightly to signal his approval.

“How long would it take?” Chakotay asked Gegen. “If I went with you — how long would I be gone?”

“At our highest speed, perhaps an Earth year to reach the City Ship, then another to return to your space. However,” Gegen shrugged helplessly, “I do not know the length of the proceedings.”

Chakotay’s lips compressed. “I can’t be away from my people for that long. Is there another option? Perhaps a comm link?”

Despite Gegen’s appreciation for Chakotay, Soter regarded the human warily. “In-person testimony offers clarity and mutual focus on a shared experience. The Ministry will not trade those truths for the complexities of long-range communication.”

Kathryn didn’t know why, but the word “trade” sent a smile across Chakotay’s face. With his good hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a Starfleet commbadge.

“Chakotay to La Forge,” he said. 

“La Forge here.”

“Would Starfleet be willing to trade transporter jump technology for information about a transporter beam so strong it can work through shields — and, presumably, with that kind of power, across vast regions of space?”

“Yes. Yes, we would. Starfleet would most certainly be open to that trade.”

Chakotay and Gegen nodded at each other. 

***

When Harry beamed aboard with Admiral La Forge, Tom blanched. 

In his mind, Harry had been frozen in time. 

Young. 

Trim. 

Earnest. 

But the man Tom saw had streaks of grey in his hair and sadness in his eyes. His stomach had widened and he leaned on a cane. This man wasn’t Tom’s friend — because Tom had wanted it that way, because Tom didn’t need a friend who had tried to argue him out of grief … because maybe that friend was grieving, too ... and desperately wanted to reassure them both that things would get better?

_ Two equally accurate truths. _

The Starfleet officers shook hands with Gegen and Soter, then Kathryn pulled Harry into a hug as Admiral La Forge exclaimed over technological exchange and better quality of life for all concerned. Tom watched the admiral approve the plan for Chakotay to appear before the Ministry — a plan Tom had feared would be considered a violation of the Prime Directive — and the admiral said something about Starfleet’s responsibility to clean up its own messes. 

Did the admiral consider Soter a mess? Tom had fewer and fewer parental leanings toward the creature who seemed to regard herself as a child of science, but he bristled at Admiral La Forge’s assessment.

Though it could be argued that leaving behind shuttle debris and life-forms that altered the path of Voth society would qualify as a Starfleet-created mess. 

Tom unclenched fists he didn’t realize he had formed. 

_ Embrace the nuances of life instead of searching for absolutes.  _

Kathryn told Gegen that she wanted a comm line to the Vulcan Science Academy, that Harry and Tom needed computer access to design transporter jump enhancements, and Soter should brief Chakotay on Voth society and Ministry procedures.

Tom hadn’t seen Kathryn like that in so long — commanding, delegating, speaking from a position of power.

He liked it. 

His chest filled with pride for his partner in squabbles, in understanding, in … life? 

No. Thinking of Kathryn as his life partner was an insult to B’Elanna, to their marriage, to the people who died and the space that was damaged.

But B’Elanna had been dead for nine years — longer than the entire time she and Tom had known each other. 

And maybe all those nights when he held Kathryn and it felt wrong because she wasn’t B’Elanna — maybe the problem was him, that he had allowed his whirlpool of grief to drown him in what-ifs and should-have-beens that blinded him to the truth of what he did have: a partner who loved him, even if they had never used that word. 

Even if he loved her, and should have figured that out years ago. 

And now the damaged space that had consumed them was about to be overcome, something Kathryn had wanted since the day she chimed at the door of his home, her scar raw and angry and purple. She had sworn she never wanted to work with Starfleet again, that their goal would be to help the citizens of the Federation regain faster-than-light-travel. Yet there she was, striding off with Admiral La Forge, saying she expected Tom and Harry to get started on transporter tests while she learned more about technology that allowed the Voth ship to attain warp. 

Kathryn was leaving him alone with Harry. Was this a cruelty? A kindness? 

_ The complexity of circumstance and the impossibility of absolute truth. _

The two men set up transporter jump algorithms and Tom tried not to think of the last time they had seen each other. Harry’s face had been blotchy and the younger man’s sleeve had dabbed under his eyes when Tom yelled at Harry to never contact him again.

All these years, Kathryn had told Tom that Harry had tried to do the right thing and shouldn’t be punished for that.

All these years, Tom had missed B’Elanna because he had to, but missing Harry had been a choice. 

The wrong choice.

So many wrong choices. 

How could he even begin to fix them? How could Tom do what Starfleet hadn’t done in time — set free difficult truths because holding them in was the greater harm?

He looked at Harry.

_ This is the way forward. _

“Harry.” Tom’s voice was so strangled that he could barely hear himself. 

Harry looked up from his work. “What?”

“I’m sorry.” Tom’s cheeks were warm. “I’m sorry I was an asshole and took out my grief on you. I’ve wasted too many years not listening to what you said about B’Elanna wanting me to be happy. I understand if you hate me for what I did ...” Tom wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers, “... but is there a chance that we can talk it out and find a way to be friends again?”

Brown eyes blinked rapidly. 

A cane tipped to lean against a console. 

A hand extended. 

And Tom put his hand in Harry’s for a shake that was quick and firm — then one of them pulled and they were in each other’s arms and holding on tight.

***

“Phase inversion spatial displacement,” Kathryn breathed. A console in the Voth ship’s Engineering bay showed schematics of the easy-to-implement design. “By putting the warp engine out of phase with the damaged layer of subspace, the process to create and maintain a warp bubble is identical to what it would be in normal space.”

Next to Gegen, there was a peal of laughter from Admiral La Forge. 

“It’s so obvious!” The admiral’s head shook. “The Romulans and Klingons have been working on this technology since my days as a chief engineer. I’ve never seen it perfected, though.”

Kathryn drew in breath to tell the admiral how Gegen had used spatial displacement as a personal cloak when he boarded _Voyager_ , but a comm interrupted her — Tuvok saying the Vulcan Science Academy had received Voth specifications for a warp engine phase inverter. Engineers there would coordinate with Starfleet to build prototypes. Testing could begin in as soon as a few weeks.

There could be warp again in as soon as a few weeks. 

A shot of pain arced across Kathryn’s cheek, but her grin didn’t waver. 

She had wanted this for so damn long.

A sideways jerk of the admiral’s head sent Kathryn following him to a corner of the Engineering bay. Kathryn had planned to check on Tom and Harry. She wanted an update on their transporter work — and to see if they might be tiptoeing back toward a friendship she was sure had been dormant, not dead. But the admiral pointed to phase inverter schematics. 

“We could use your expertise, Kathryn,” Admiral La Forge said. “If you want to lead development of this technology, I’m sure I can convince Starfleet to reinstate your commission. I’d be honored to call you my colleague, and it would be a privilege to watch you return warp capability to ships across the Federation. What do you say?”

Kathryn’s chest constricted. 

She had daydreamed about moments like this. 

Every time there was a halfway decent chance for a benamite crystal, Kathryn had allowed herself the luxury of considering the perfect reply if Starfleet ever asked her to help with the technical details of restoring faster-than-light travel. This was finally her chance.

Her chin rose. 

Muscles flexed under an aching, white scar. 

Blue eyes met Admiral La Forge’s silver ones, and Kathryn said, “My greatest love was the stars. Because of Starfleet bureaucracy, I stole the stars from billions of people who could no longer warp through space. My debt is paid — and Starfleet can go fuck itself.”


	11. I’ve Got You

Once, when he was a child, Harry had watched a little, green snake shed its skin. A dry, brittle husk had peeled away as the slithering animal took on a new vibrancy. 

Harry hadn’t expected to understand what it might feel like to be that little snake.

But he also never expected a heartfelt apology from Tom, an apology that pulled off the rough skin Harry hadn’t been able to shed, leaving him both brand new and more like himself than he had been in years.

“So what did you do when Miral volunteered to host her pen pal for those five weeks?” Harry tapped a console to build an algorithm integrating Voth and Federation transporter technologies.

“Well let’s just say there was one very small, very energetic Benzite running around the _Nautilus_.” Tom reached over Harry to inspect one of Starfleet’s newer transporter test cylinders. “I have to admit, though, we missed that kid when she left. It was good for Miral, and a nice break in the routine for Kathryn and me.”

_ Kathryn and me.  _

Harry told himself this was one more change in Tom. His long-ago — someday again? — best friend had thinner hair, a thicker waistline, and lines at the corners of his eyes. It shouldn’t be strange to hear him talk about their former captain as an equal. After all, Harry hadn’t considered Chakotay a commanding officer in years. 

But something was off. 

Before Harry had a chance to ask, Tom began to list variables in computing transporter jumps and ships needed, as well as appropriate safety margins. His hip then rested on their console and Tom said, “What about your social life, Harry? Please tell me I have some new names to learn.”

***

The more Soter talked, the more Chakotay’s heart pounded in a way it hadn’t in more years than he cared to consider.

Excitement. Sheer intellectual excitement. 

Voth society was at a pivotal point in its development. If anthropological norms applied — and Chakotay couldn’t see any reason why they wouldn’t — then it could be a swift and smooth transition from the political symbology of the Mandate of Truth to some sort of syncretism.

“Explain ‘syncretism,’ please.” Soter leaned back in her briefing room chair. 

“Syncretism occurs when one culture adds beliefs from another culture to create something new.” Chakotay grinned as an example occurred to him. “Centuries ago, when my tribe was weakened by disease, we joined with another tribe. One tribe believed in Sky Spirits and the other tribe believed in an animal guide. The tribes merged these two beliefs in a way that has always been more meaningful for me than either would be alone.”

Chakotay held up the padd Harry had brought him with data on interpretations of truth from various Federation species.

“When I speak to your Ministry, it’s my hope that your people will understand and incorporate many interpretations of truth, from the fallibility of truth serums to judicial recognition of each person’s perspective as a unique truth — and much more.”

The greens of Soter’s face deepened.

“I have learned this lesson regarding perspectives of truth only recently, with you to thank. If the Ministry is similarly able to appreciate and permit nuances of truth, then you will be a hero to the Voth people.”

_ Hero.  _

There it was. The gut-punch of a title that had ruined Chakotay’s life in ways more profound than the damage to subspace or even to his hand. 

Well, maybe this time he could earn it. 

Chakotay reached for another padd to get back to work.

***

The wrongdoer did, indeed, appear to be steadfast. 

Yet when Gegen entered the instruction room to inquire as to her progress tutoring the Chakotay on Voth society, Soter preferred to update her mentor in private. 

“I shall return,” she told the Chakotay as she rose from her chair. 

He nodded, intent on his learnings. 

They strode the corridors and Soter informed Gegen of the Chakotay’s eagerness to gain information, of his stories that described Alpha Quadrant species’ beliefs regarding truth. 

“You seem impressed,” Gegen said. 

“I am,” Soter confirmed. “If my siblings can leave the City Ship should they desire to, and if all Voth can be permitted to seek their truth as they see fit, the times ahead could be most joyous.”

Gegen stopped. He turned toward Soter. “Will you choose to leave the City Ship? Do you feel your time among the Voth is nearing an end?”

Soter’s arms crossed.

“I am Voth. I have no yearnings to depart from my species, only to assist it in becoming better — whether that evolutionary path results in others like me … or another truth.”

Gegen’s hand went to Soter’s shoulder. “You have learned well. I am interested only in science, but perhaps service to the Ministry is in your future.”

Soter’s head tilted. She had always considered herself a scientist to the core, born of a genetic experiment and improved by genomic manipulation. 

But, perhaps, it was time to widen her own self-truth.

***

Hand over hand. 

If Kathryn just kept walking, guiding herself hand over hand along the bulkheads, she could make it. 

If only she could see clearly. 

If only pain wasn’t searing her cheek like fire. 

If only —

“Holy fuck.” 

Thank God. It was Tom’s voice, then a blur next to her was him and familiar hands took hers and he was shouting something to Harry about wanting the rest of the story later. 

Story? Tom and Harry were friends again — already?

No. No thinking. Only walking. Walking with Tom’s hands holding hers. 

Her cheek. 

It burned. 

“I’ve got you,” Tom said. “Here we go.”

She couldn’t tell where he was taking her, but then Tom ordered a cup of ice cubes from the replicator and Kathryn wanted to say, yes, please, now.

Then ice was on her cheek and, even though she knew it was impossible, part of her was surprised when it didn’t sizzle.

They were still walking, and Kathryn heard the bathroom door slide shut.

Privacy. He knew she would prefer privacy, that she wouldn’t want anyone to see her like this.

Tears pricked her eyes, pain and gratitude combined. 

“Come on.” Tom helped Kathryn to the floor and guided her head onto his lap, never pausing in sliding ice over inflamed nerves. Why had she given so many orders? Why did she have that discussion with Admiral La Forge after she turned down his offer? She had talked too much, smiled too much, and done this to herself. 

A sound came out of her, jagged and raw, and Tom murmured, “It’s bad, but you can get through it. I’m here.”

So many times. 

This had happened so many times. 

But the fire hadn’t burned like this in years. 

Kathryn thought of Chakotay’s withered hand, of Harry’s cane. 

She imagined her own face, drooping on one side, and she forced herself to breathe evenly, to let the fire engulf her for now because Chakotay and Harry had made their choices and she understood why — God, she understood why — but this choice, this truth, was hers.

A fresh cube of ice slid along her pain-scorched scar and she found the strength to squeeze Tom’s knee. His cold fingers hooked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

“This is our new mission.”

He was speaking softly, just enough for her to hear from deep within her pain.

“We’ll go wherever it takes. Do whatever we have to do. But we’re going to find a way for you to talk and smile and laugh as much as you want. And I’m going to stop drowning in whirlpools of grief.”

What?

She couldn’t form words, but she cried out and he knew to keep talking.

“I've been thinking about truth and all the things you’ve said.” His warm hand met hers on his knee. “And I want us to break out of some bad habits. I want us to get a new ship, to explore the stars — the stars you love and the stars you’ve never seen before. But first we’re going to get you some medical help. I want us to try to find happiness together, and I’ll bet we have a better shot at that than we ever did at finding benamite crystals.”

Could she be hallucinating from pain?

No. The pain had crested. It was receding. 

Kathryn wanted to smile. 

So she did. 


	12. As Long as You’ll Let Me

“I called in a few favors and we can get you through Klingon space in one jump.” Admiral La Forge handed Chakotay a device. “Gegen had this communicator tested and we’re positive you can hail us from the Voth City ship.”

Chakotay nodded. 

Soter and Gegen stood on transporter pads, waiting for him. He had hoped Kathryn would be here to see him off, but Harry had said something about Tom helping her with a problem.

He stuck out his good hand toward Harry. “Thank you for arranging for an officer to take over my trade route.”

Harry’s shake was solid, confident. “It’s my pleasure — and we should have the _Leakey_ warp-capable by the time you get back.” 

Warp could lead to expectations he would spend more time among his people, and Chakotay didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he climbed onto a transporter pad. He was ready for the room to dissolve when the door slid open. 

Kathryn’s scar was stark white against bright red on her cheek. She seemed dazed, but she strode in and up onto the pad. Her arms slid around him, and Chakotay was so surprised that he almost missed what she said. 

“Thank you.”

He held her, all shoulder blades and hair that smelled like jasmine. “For what?”

“For saving my life on the _Ubivis_.”

She stepped away, breaking the embrace.

“Only you could do this, Chakotay. I hope it’s everything you could ask for and more.”

He hoped so, too. 

God, he hoped so, too. 

The room dissolved.

***

Harry had wanted to hold on to that sensation of vibrancy, of old skin shed and new skin gleaming.

But it was crummy that Tom didn’t bother to say goodbye to Chakotay. And Admiral La Forge was chattering about shields and warp and transporter jumps as if one of Harry’s closest friends hadn’t just disappeared on what could be a very dangerous mission. 

The pad where Chakotay stood just a few seconds before seemed achingly empty.

Harry wanted to step up to that same pad and tell the transporter attendant to beam him home. 

Whatever that meant.

Harry liked his ship, his crew. 

But he was so damn tired.

“... and I think you’re the perfect person to do that, wouldn’t you agree, Captain?”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Harry leaned on his cane. “Would you mind repeating that?”

Admiral La Forge smiled slightly. “What I said, Captain Kim, is that your onetime commanding officer informed me earlier today of your familiarity with her contact on Vulcan. She declined to serve as Starfleet’s liaison to the Vulcan Science Academy, but recommended you for the job. The posting involves overseeing implementation of warp engine phase inverters. Time on Vulcan also would likely include adaptations to the Vulcan lifestyle, such as meditation and games like Kal-toh. I think you’re the perfect person to do this, wouldn’t you agree?”

Harry could almost feel the warmth of the Vulcan sun. He inhaled deeply, imagining a calm but productive life among serene people.

“I would like that very much. Thank you, sir.”

Kathryn patted his shoulder and Harry wanted to thank her, too, but she was already stepping to the doorway, motioning for someone to come into the transporter room.

Tom. 

“Hey, Harry.” Tom’s hands were in his pockets. “Heard you would probably be headed to Vulcan. Think you have time before your next job to join a couple of old pals for a trip to the Tri-Rho Nautica Shipyards?”

Harry glanced at Admiral La Forge, who nodded. 

“Sure,” Harry said. “Why?”

Tom grinned. “We want to make sure our new ship’s guest room can be your home away from home — and to your liking if you want to bring a guest of your own.”

Kathryn winked and Harry grinned back at Tom and Admiral La Forge offered to initiate transport. As the room disappeared, Harry felt energized in a way that had nothing to do with his atoms dematerializing.

**Three months later … Epilogue**

The _da Vinci_ darkened into night mode. Through the control center viewports, Kathryn watched star-streaks shrink until they were dots, familiar constellations near the border of Federation and Klingon space. 

Dropping out of warp was a beautiful sight. 

Transporter jump technology was fine — better than ever, actually, with Voth-enabled enhancements that lessened the number of jumps to get from place to place. But Tom had wanted to go to Qo'noS to pick Miral up for her university break instead of planning to meet her at a space station. That meant the _da Vinci_ had been at warp for days and, tomorrow, Miral would see her new room — with only a few of Harry’s things in the closet.

Kathryn tapped her console to close the most recent letter from Chakotay. He kept extending his time among the Voth. It hadn’t taken him long to convince the Ministry to syncretize Federation and Voth concepts in interpreting the Mandate of Truth. Since then, his passion for anthropology seemed to have taken over, with excited recountings of the various circles within Voth society. 

The letters from doctors could wait, too. In the few weeks since the _da Vinci_ had become warp-capable, Tom had flown Kathryn to Denobula, to Rigel VI, and to three worlds in the Kalandra system in hopes of finding a cure for her subspace injury. “Maybe someday,” they were told each time.

The words weren’t easy to hear, but some of the new pain medications worked better than what Kathryn had been prescribed years before. On afternoons when the burning wasn’t too bad, Tom would replicate ice cubes and that helped, too.

Kathryn set the ship to autopilot and pushed away from her console.

She strolled, admiring the sleek corridors on the new ship. Losing the _Nautilus_ hadn’t been the wrench she had expected. Tom had been right about bad habits. On the _da Vinci_ , every time grief or guilt tugged at one of them, the other would point out what was happening and, together, they were, indeed, finding a way forward.

The door to their room slid open. Tom was already in bed, propped against the headboard, a book open in his hands. 

“Tired?” Kathryn slipped off her shoes. 

“A little,” he said. 

She brushed her teeth and changed into her nightgown. Tom’s book slid onto his nightstand and Kathryn shuffled until his stomach was against her back, his arms around her.

There was a moment of breathing together.

Then a drowsy kiss dropped on her shoulder. 

Her neck. 

Her jawline.

Warm breath swirled in her ear. “Hey.”

Her scar flexed with her grin. “I thought you were tired.”

“I am.” His hand shifted to her hip. “But I spent too many years not embracing the nuances of life, not appreciating the complexity of circumstance.”

She rolled and looked into blue eyes intent on hers. “Are you going to quote my speeches every day?”

“As long as you’ll let me.” Tom pressed a kiss to Kathryn’s forehead. 

“That’s going to be a long time.” Her fingers traced the curl of his ear. “Probably the rest of our lives.”

His arms tightened around her. “I’ll agree to that truth if you will.” 

“Yes.” A gentle laugh bubbled from her stomach. “Yes, I agree to that truth.”

His lips met hers. “Good.”

And he was right — after too many years of bad, things were, indeed, finally good. 

Not perfect. 

But good.


End file.
